Tin Cup’s Place

Cheapskate

This is how it’s been for about 70 years: You live somewhere near Rice Street. You go to Mass at St. Bernard’s. You go to eat, drink, tap your toe to accordion music, and try to win a whole bunch of raw meat at Tin Cup’s. I learned this from a couple of different friends who grew up in the twin shadows of the St. Bernard’s spire and the giant blinking Tin Cup’s signage. When they heard I was going to Tin Cup’s they said, “I’ve spent half my life there.”

So now that I’ve been there, I have a whole new insight into the whole North End Experience. I feel a little bitter that I didn’t grow up there. Of course, before it became smoke-free a couple years ago, I couldn’t have stepped inside without an oxygen mask.

I’ll let my colleagues go into the details. Judging from our table talk, I have a feeling they have a lot to tell you.

Cheapskate Bottom Line: Go for weekend breakfast, served until about 2 p.m. Excellent breakfast that you’ll get for a song.

And no, they don’t have a Web site. Duh.

Food Snob
When our esteemed editor informed the Without Reservations crew that the Monitor was expanding to the North End, I rejoiced.  Since Day 1 of our glorious reign as food reviewers, I’ve chafed at geographic boundaries.  My contention:  people have cars, or they can ride the bus to restaurants.  (Shameless aside: Have you seen the new web site www.bustales.com?  It’s a must-read for anyone who uses public transportation).

Pressured by my colleagues, I have grudgingly agreed to stay within the Monitor’s boundaries (mostly) for years.  Now we have new territory to conquer and no one can stop me.

Tin Cup’s Place is almost too good to be true, with a menu of all homemade American favorites, at prices that seem rolled back to the ‘60s.  A full breakfast (with a very tasty steak) for about $5, with a Bloody Mary or Screwdriver thrown in for an extra 50 cents?  No way. Yes, way.  So Bloody Marys all around, not too spicy and rimmed with celery salt. Oh, and with a beer chaser thrown in for free.

Fried chicken (or maybe broasted, although the cooking method isn’t specified) is the specialty at Tin Cup’s, and I splurged with the all-white half chicken for $8.95.  Not only did two gi-normous breast/wing combinations show up on my plate, but they were perched precariously on a mountain of crispy hashed browns.  All this food was preceded by a choice of salad, soup or coleslaw. Seeing me torn between the vegetable beef soup and the slaw, our server brought me both. The soup was rich and beefy and the cole slaw nice and sweet.

Tin Cup’s doesn’t serve dessert, so I indulged in some pull tabs instead.  I won back my $1 investment, but may be the only patron to ever cash out. The attendant was incredulous when I asked for a greenback, but I’m not a gambler. A glutton, yes, and Tin Cup’s is a sure thing for folks like me.

The Chowhound
The last time I had a Bloody Mary this tasty was, believe it or not, at an airport on the way to my honeymoon a few years ago. Considering that the airport bloody cost $13 and the one at Cup’s is only 50 cents with a weekend breakfast order, I think it’s safe to say I’ve found my new favorite place to drink. That and the fact that the airport was in Dallas, which is a bit further than the 10-minute drive to Cups.

But it’s not just the cheap drinks and the impressive bar that stretches the entire length of the building that’s going to keep me coming back. Nope, I’m going back for the home-style cooking.

While I was busy reading through the crowded menu, which appropriately showcases six clip-art tin cups on the cover, I heard the server say something about a hot ham and cheese sandwich with soup and chips ($6.25). I closed the menu. That was exactly what I was craving. The meal made good on its promise: buttery-grilled bread with melted cheese and ham, wavy chips, and chunky vegetable beef soup. Just the way I would have prepared it.

Everything about Tin Cup’s is authentic. Where sometimes I complain about less-than-perfect design (remember when I suggested a certain café rethink their signage?), here it’s just part of what makes Tin Cup’s such a great place. Dark orange pleather chairs and green and orange tiled floors don’t reflect what we might consider pleasing color combinations today, but I wouldn’t want anything else from a place that’s been around for 60+ years.

The Bachelor
I have a knack for being in the right place at the wrong time. Take the time I was standing outside The Ed Sullivan Theater (where David Letterman tapes his show) just moments before Pamela Anderson was ushered out to her limo. Oh, to have “brushed” just one molecule of that cinematic genius. Doh!

Well, I found myself in the same predicament during our recent lunch at Cup’s. (Well, there was a lot less silicone involved … and a lot more Brylkreem.) Our crew grabbed a table near the bar (of course every seat at Cup’s is near the bar, which is the length of a city bus). After waiting a few minutes for my vision to be restored (this place is not exactly well lit), I noticed posters above every booth featuring an elderly gentleman cradling an accordion. That man was none other than Roger Van Horn, and the poster promised me “Funtime Music!”

Funtime Music! I like fun. I like music. Count me in! Alas, it was only 12 p.m., and Roger wouldn’t be storming the stage ( right there near the pull tab booth) for another two hours. My heart sank when I realized there was no way I’d be able to convince my three curmudgeonly dining companions to stick around that long. There would be no fun. There would be no music. There would be no Roger Van Horn for me. Just another entry on my list of missed brushes with greatness.

So I took solace in comfort food. And if you crave comfort food, Cup’s is for you. You may find yourself whisked off to an early grave from the deep-fried this and red-meat that, but you’ll be sufficiently comforted for the journey.

I ordered the cod dinner ($7.95), which consisted of five triangles of breaded cod, a crater of mashed potatoes and gravy, buttered toast, and some truly yummy coleslaw. (I did cast a raised eyebrow toward my “cod,” having noticed Gimp’s Live Bait directly across the street, but my meal was not in fact breaded bait). I wolfed everything down, and each bite reminded me of countless dinners of my youth: greasy, salty, unimaginative, and oh so good.

Finally, if you ever have a chance to bask in the reflected glory of Roger Van Horn’s “Funtime Music!,” please send me an e-mail with every aching detail so I can live vicariously through you.

 

Tin Cup’s Place

1220 Rice St
St Paul, MN 55117
(651) 489-7585

 

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